I froze.
My heart, which I had spent What felt like 'years' In the void trying mana-breathing, decided to ignore all its training and hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird. I stayed low, crouching behind a cluster of oversized ferns. My mind immediately went to the 'slaughterhouse' the previous Keeper had wandered into.
Voice, I projected, my thoughts sharp and hushed. Tell me that's a very realistic, very stationary pile of moss.
"It is a biological entity," the Voice replied. "Vital signs are fluctuating and is dropping below 15%."
I let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-shudder. My instinct—the part of me—told me to turn around. But the librarian in me, the one who couldn't stand a story with missing pages, nudged me forward.
I crept closer, minimizing the crunch of dead leaves beneath my boots. As the foliage cleared, the "moss" resolved into a person. Or, more accurately, a half-person.
Wolf ears. And a tail.
I stopped dead. I'd read about beast-kin in novel back in my world, but seeing the twitch of silver-grey fur in the dappled sunlight was a different brand of reality. A brand that this actually was happening, That I have died, Left my previous world, practiced and read about basics of mana and self healing In a void For who knows how long, Worked on a invisible floor that felt walking in air or space, talked freely about Dragons and what not with the Voice, Seeing the voice conjure up literal furniture from nothing but the reality hit me now. it was all true And not just a very realistic dream where pain could be felt. She was lying limp, her breathing ragged, staining the vibrant green moss a dark, visceral crimson.
Is she... dead? Voice, don't tell me I finally found another person and they're already a closed book. I asked Feeling worried at her lying limp even though I could hear her ragged breathing.
"She is alive, though the state is critical," the Voice informed me.
Just as I reached out—uncertain if I was going to help or just check for a pulse—her hand twitched. It didn't reach for a weapon. It reached for me.
"Help..." her voice was a broken rasp, a sound that made my stomach knot. "They... they're going to take him. Please..."
Her hand fell away, gesturing feebly toward the hollow of a massive tree root. My eyes followed the movement, and my breath caught. Tucked into the shadows was a small bundle of silver-blue fur. A child. He couldn't have been more than two years old, sporting the same wolfish ears, trembling so violently in what felt like fear and tread.
I looked at the woman, then the child, then back at the trail of blood.
Damn it.
I had spent my time in the Library learning how to knit my own skin back together and shield my own soul. I had been selfish—logical, I called it. I hadn't bothered with external healing spells because I hadn't planned on Meeting anyone so soon And in such a dire state on my first trip out.
I felt a surge of genuine irritation at my past self. You idiot. Why did you only focus on self healing and didn't focus on the entirety of it.
I dropped into a low crouch beside her, my knees sinking into the blood-soaked moss. My hands hovered over her, shaking just enough to be annoying. I wasn't a doctor; I was a guy who knew how to rebind a book and, recently, how to knit my own skin back together.
Voice, I called out, my mental tone sharp with an edge of desperation. Can you scan her for me. Tell me you can. Give me a diagnostic. Is there an 'Emergency First Aid for Beast-kin' manual? Anything?
"The subject has sustained multiple deep lacerations to the abdominal cavity and right thigh," the Voice replied, its tone as dry as a desert. "Internal efficiency is failing. Vitality is at 8%."
I can see she's dying, Voice! I need to know how to stop it using what I have.
"Search failed," the Voice responded instantly. "The Keeper has only have excess to Level 0. Your current 'clearance' for active intervention is limited to the records you read that you have integrated. You chose to master 'Self-Healing' and 'Basic Mana Manipulation.' My database cannot provide external application protocols for techniques you have not yet studied."
I let out a hissed curse. "You've got to be kidding me. You're telling me I'm standing in front of a dying woman and I'm locked out of the 'Save Others' menu because I was too busy being a hermit?"
"Correct. The Library provides the tools; the Keeper must provide the study. You are a vessel with no ceiling, but currently, you have no floor to stand on for external healing."
I looked at the woman's pale face, then at the tiny, trembling child tucked under the tree root. He was staring at me with wide, tear-filled eyes, his little silver-blue tail tucked tight against his legs.
Logical Aren told me to leave. I had no spells for this. I was "barely stronger than a veteran human." If her pursuers showed up now, I'd be just another body in the forest.
But Librarian Aren... the one who hated seeing a masterpiece get shredded... he wasn't having it.
"Damn it" I muttered, my voice low and dangerous. I wasn't going to give up. I wasn't going to have it that way. Not yet without trying at least.
I reached out and pressed my palms directly over the largest wound on her side. The warm, copper scent of blood filled my lungs.
"I don't need a manual to know that a leak needs to be plugged," I growled, closing my eyes and forcing my mana to circulate. I didn't have an external healing spell, so I would have to trick my 'Self-Healing' into thinking her body was an extension of mine.
It was a reckless, inefficient, and arguably stupid move.
I guess I'm finally adding my own notes to the margin.
I dropped to my knees, my hands Finally falling over the gaping wound in her side. "Voice, I'm using the self-healing mana flow. Redirect it... now!"
"Warning," the Voice's tone was devoid of the hope I was looking for. "You are attempting to use self healing on someone other than yourself. Efficiency loss is 92%. The subject's life force is too depleted to act as a conductor."
I gritted my teeth, forcing the golden light from my palms into her skin. For a second, the bleeding slowed, the flesh trying to knit together. But then, a sickening pop echoed in the silence. The mana shattered like glass.
"Biological collapse is total," the Voice stated. "She is gone, Keeper."
I sat back, my hands stained a dark, irreversible crimson. I'm a librarian; I know how a tragedy ends. The woman's hand, which had been clutching my sleeve, went limp.
"Keeper," the Voice interjected, its tone sharpening. "Thermal signatures are approaching from the North-East. Six humanoids, armed. Likely the 'they' she warned of. You have less than two minutes before visual contact."
With no time to wallow over the loss, I looked at the tree roots. A small, choked sob came from the shadows. The boy crawled out, his silver-blue tail dragging in the dirt, and huddled against his mother's cooling shoulder. He looked up at me—not with fear, but with a devastating, silent expectation.
"Damn it," I whispered, rubbing my face and leaving a streak of blood across my cheek. I wanted a quiet life. I wanted to read books and drink tea. But the 'editors' of this world were already trying to kill off the supporting cast, and I hadn't even finished the first chapter.
I scooped the child up, his small frame surprisingly light and trembling. "Sorry, kid. The mourning period is going to have to be a mobile one."
I looked toward the approaching rustle of steel and boots. If I couldn't save the mother, I'd at least make sure the sequel to her story didn't end here.